Goodbye, Old friend
by MelanyeBaggins
Summary: Obi-Wan has lost much, but through young Luke Skywalker, perhaps he can gain back some of what he'd lost. [BookFic, NON-Slash, flashbacks to Prequels]
1. Part One

Goodbye, Old Friend

**Part One:**

It was the last thing I said to him. The _real_ him, the uncorrupted, wise and compassionate man who I'd spent most of my life with. The man I had loved as a brother, moulded into a strong and fearless Jedi Knight. The man who saw me as the father he never had.

'_Goodbye, old friend.'_

Oh how little I knew the truth of these words, that this would be our last goodbye. If only I had known that his confession and apology in that hangar had been a desperate plea for help. How could I have known that he was reading me his suicide note?

That the next time I would see him would be on a security camera?

I remember being absurdly disappointed that he hadn't bothered to deactivate the internal security system. I thought I'd taught him better. I thought I'd taught him…. a lot of things…

'_From my point of view the Jedi are the enemy!'_

'_Then you are lost!'_

There are some words that just cannot be taken back. Some hurts that are indelibly etched onto a person's heart that can never be healed. On that black shore on Mustafar, I was dealt such a blow, from the man who was the closest I had ever come to having my own son. Anakin had hurt me in ways no one had, or ever could, for no one had ever been that close to me before or since.

The Jedi Knight named Obi-Wan Kenobi, the man that had loved and trained and lived with Anakin Skywalker for half his life died that day, killed by his own apprentice in a cold blooded murder-suicide. The empty shell that picked up his lightsaber and walked away from the only man he ever truly loved, had never been the same.

'_You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you, but I could not save you.'_

No one could. Even his wife Padme was unable to reach him. I'll never forget the grief in her voice that day as she tried to reason with what was left of her husband. As I listened I held on to the last small hope that maybe he would listen to her, his love, his life, his reason for living. Perhaps her gentle voice and earnest pleas would turn him away from the darkness that had consumed him, but to my horror, in his rage against all things good and pure, he killed her too.

'_**Liar!** You turned her against me!'_

There are not enough words in any language to describe the grief that stabbed my heart with those words. Not even my darkest dreams could prepare me for the hell that our desperate battle and ultimate end cemented within my memory. The look on his face as he looked up from that burning shore of black glass and called my name…the heat and smell and screams when he burst aflame, scarring for life not only his body, but also his soul.

'_**I hate you!'**_

Killing him then would have been a mercy. Many times in the years since I regretted my decision to let him live, if he could. The first time I saw the black terror of his facemask, necessary to keep him alive, I wished I had given in to my compassion twenty years ago and put him out of his pain and misery.

But it was not the will of the Force.

"You fought in the Clone Wars?" asked Luke, Anakin's son, about the same age as his father was when I last saw him. He knew nothing of his parentage, and I know everything. It breaks my heart.

"Yes," I answer, "I was once a Jedi Knight, the same as your father." His eyes light up, and I know I've grabbed his attention. _Jedi_. We have passed into legend. Nothing more now but whispered rumors of wizards who can control people's minds and fight with swords of light. Even for me, the word tumbles awkwardly from my mouth, after so long, such a very long time of never speaking of it. I was a Jedi. I _am_ a Jedi.

"I wish I'd known him," he sighed. 'Yes,' my thoughts lament, 'I wish he could have known _you_.' But perhaps-

"He was the best Star Pilot in the galaxy, and a cunning warrior." If indeed it is impossible for him to ever know his father, perhaps at least his memory can pass on to his children. In that dim hope, some of the pain of his loss lightens, and I feel free of some unseen burden. "And he was a good friend." Really, what more to say is there? He was my _best_ friend. There aren't words to describe the relationship his father and I shared. Our legendary prowess as the unbeatable team, mostly because of its 'poster-boy' Anakin, the unspoken communication that seemed to be constant between us, and palpable during battle, his secret love of Padme he thought he'd hidden from me. I had ached to tell him how happy I was for them, but I couldn't. I knew that Jedi were forbidden from attachments such as that, but for some reason for Anakin, it fit. It just seemed right that he should marry. Since there was no way I could explain it to the council, or express my joy to the Skywalkers, I kept silent.

But I knew.

And now I have Luke to look after, just as I did for his father. Leia's message both startled and assured me – she is in danger but being an offspring of the legendary Hero With No Fear, and the Incorruptible Senator, I have no fear for her. And besides, her brother will be there to help her. For the first time in many long years, a smile – no, a _grin_ works its way onto my face.

"You must learn the ways of the Force, if you're to come with me to Alderaan." I see the fear and wonder in his sky-blue eyes, and know for sure.

So it begins.

continued….


	2. Part Two

**Part Two:**

Owen and Beru.

Anakin's step-brother and his wife. I remember them from long ago, when I delivered young Luke into Beru's warm embrace. There was so much I wanted to tell them then, so much that should have been said, but I decided against it. I thought they would be better served by my watching from afar.

For twenty years I had looked out for them, for Luke. Twenty years of watching, but not participating. I know the things Owen told Luke about his father, about me. He blames the Jedi for what happened to Anakin, but yet he never really knew him. From my understanding, Anakin was only on Tatouine for a few days as he searched, and later grieved, for his mother, and most of that time was spent with Padme. How could Owen judge Anakin on such a short visit? What kind of person does that?

I resented for a long time the things he told Luke, how ruthlessly he discouraged the boy's latent force abilities. I remember, twelve years ago when we met up in Mos Espa how quickly he'd yanked Luke away from me, telling him I was just a 'crazy old man' and that he should stay away from me. How terribly difficult it was to reign in my anger at such a betrayal. I understand how protective Owen must be, how frightened that Luke might become what his father was, but this was not what I had in mind when I volunteered to watch over him. How could I watch over him while being constantly pushed aside? I was angry then. For the first time since Qui-Gon's death, I was furious. And I hated myself for it.

I had known even before our speeder slowed down in front of the great hulk of the Jawas' transport what had happened. The ripples in the force of the little creatures' violent deaths had warned me well in advance. This was no random act of terror – Vader was sending us a message. _'I'm on to you.'_

I know that somehow, in the back of his mind, Luke knew it too, but as he was meant to, he suspected the SandPeople. _'He still has much to learn,'_ I remembered my words to Master Windu of Anakin. _'I sense much fear in you…'_ It appears that many things are hereditary.

"Only Imperial Storm Troopers are so precise," I hinted. He looked up at me, and I saw the thoughts swim past his eyes, felt the connections being made as he looked from the carnage, to the droids, to me.

"If they tracked the druids to the Jawas, they might know who they sold them to, and that would lead them…home!" Before he even moved, I felt him already bolting to his speeder. All at once I was gripped with a cold terror – just like his father, thinking before acting.

"Wait, Luke!" I cried, but he was gone. It was too late – I knew what he would find back there. I had felt those ripples too. My only regret is not making peace with Owen when I could. I regret so many things…

"Excuse me, sir," a tinny voice grabbed my attention as a metal finger tapped my shoulder. Threepio, Anakin's protocol droid. Now Luke's protocol droid. "By chance is any of this our fault?" I looked from him to his faithful astrimech counterpart, before clapping him on his metal shoulder.

"No," I said, more to myself than the droid, "it's my fault."


	3. Part Three

**Part Three:**

Wookies are one of the few races that I know of that cannot touch the Force at all. That said, they are also among the wisest I've ever encountered. Somehow, I don't think those two facts are unrelated. Perhaps this is why Master Yoda was so fond of them.

I remembered Chewbacca from his days as an ambassador to Coruscant and, as Wookies age much slower than humans he looked much the same. It seems that time has been about as kind to him as it has been with me – both of us reduced to mediocrity, our past lives forgotten. Time has not been as kind to the Wookie species however, as the Empire's xenophobia has reduced Kashyyyk to a third world planet.

How unlikely it was then, that we would meet after all these years in a crummy bar in Moss Eisly. If I was surprised to see him, he was astonished to see me.

"General Kenobi," he greeted me, "they said you were dead!"

"Hardly," I replied, "and I go by 'Ben' now." He cocked his head in curiosity but I didn't elaborate.

"I hear you are looking for passage to Alderaan," he continued. "Joining the Alliance, are we?"

"Now who said anything about that?" I evaded. Long ago, a very long time ago, we were friends. Time changes people, and I couldn't be sure of anyone anymore.

"I hear things," he said, lowering his voice. "Things about Senator Organa and his 'daughter'. Rumors that the last lingering flame of the Old Republic still burns." He seemed to look intently into my eyes. "Whispers that the Jedi are alive and well." A slight smile lightened my features.

"Rumors," I echoed, "nothing more."

"My charge, Han Solo, and I have a ship that can get you there," he reverted back to business.

"How much?"

"That is for Han to decide. He's the Pilot, I just work here."

"Hmm, indeed." Just about that time a scuffle broke out between Luke and two of the other patrons. I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes. _Children_.

"This little one's not worth the effort," I injected my voice with as much force influence as possible, "now let me get you something." The Grumpy Alien drew his blaster. Apparently his species was missed on the 'Force Impervious' list in the Temple. Damn.

With a sizzle of blue-white flame the ruffian had one less arm and a lot smaller ego. That, and I was given a lot more respect than when I'd first walked in the door. I suppressed a smirk at Luke's wide-eyed stare. _'Much to learn you still have.'_

While the commotion continued, I felt Chewbacca at my back, but waved him off with a slight flick of my hand. Instead I headed for Luke and helped the boy pick himself up, rather than spend another minute on the floor staring at the alien's severed limb. I leaned in close to keep my words between us.

"Chewbacca here is First Mate on a ship that might suit us…"


	4. Part Four

**Part Four:**

'_She's fast enough for you, Old Man."_

Hmph. _Old Man._

I can remember when I was at least considered 'somewhat attractive.'. I was even _handsome_ once. Nothing compared to Anakin, of course, at least according to the HoloNet, but still good looking.

I admit to being slower than I used to be, and I may have been on the sidelines for a couple of years, but that doesn't mean I've quit the game! I've a few tricks left in me yet, I'm still a Jedi Master, after all!

This boy, Solo, he's brash and arrogant, self-important and opportunistic, and yet I couldn't think of a better person to guide Luke in the ways of the galaxy. I know this will be my last mission – I can feel the ripples in the force telling me I will die soon. I knew it when I saw the recording of Leia, felt it when I saw the not-a-moon-it's-a-space-station.

Confirmed it when I felt Vader's presence within its armored shell.

'_Why do I get the feeling you're going to be the death of me?'_

Oh, how little I knew what I was saying.

"Tractor beam," Han shouted, "they're pulling us in!" Both he and Chewbacca began punching controls, struggling from the Death Star's invisible grip. I stilled his hand with one of my own.

"You can't win," I said reasonably, "but there are alternatives to fighting." I saw Luke look at me in through the corner of my eye. Was that…excitement? I turn to see almost the same mixture of fear and anticipation I saw on Anakin's face the very first time we went into battle together.

They are so alike, Father and Son. So wonderfully, dangerously alike.

So many mistakes we made. This time will be different – the Son will succeed where the Father had failed.

The Son will re-create what the Father destroyed.

I see all this in an instant, but soon we're sneaking off into the station, myself in search of my nemesis, Luke in search of a Princess, Han and Chewbacca…in search of reward. Little do they know that all they will find is their destiny.

"I don't think you can help me with this," I said, referring to the tractor beam we need to disable, but meaning so much more. "I must go alone."

"I want to go with you," Luke stops me. For a moment I see a flash of Anakin's face when he said the same thing as he watched me leave for Utapau. My heart wrenches in my chest.

"No," I command, perhaps a bit too harshly. "Stay and watch over the droids," I soften my voice. He tries to protest again, but I cut him off. "They must be delivered safely, or other Star Systems will suffer the same fate as Alderaan." Without waiting for another argument I turned to the doors. Just as I was about to leave, I remember my last words to Anakin all those years ago. I feel I owe his son nothing less.

"Luke," my hand on his shoulder, I bestow upon him the only blessing that is mine to give, "the Force will be with you, always."


	5. Part Five

_AN: Only one more after this, unless the inspiration hits me over the head with ESB or ROTJ. Thank you all for reading! _

**Part Five:**

If you've seen one stormtrooper, you've seen them all.

That was the joke at the Temple back when I was still called 'Obi-Wan'. I had found it absurdly ironic at the time that the template for the Grand Army, made to uphold the laws and obey whoever was in charge without question was a man who had done anything but. Life is funny that way.

I once heard a rumor that the Kaminoans were originally set to use a Jedi for the template, but that plan was scrapped in favor of an Army that could easily be controlled by Jedi.

A whole army of force-sensitive Clones? That would have bloody sucked.

People now for the most part don't even realize that the troopers they see every day _are_ clones. That little detail had gotten lost over the years, until they saw them only as the mask, and not what may lie underneath.

I wonder if Fett's son, now a Bounty Hunter even more feared than Jango himself, realizes who he is. _What_ he is.

Now as I steal through the endless identical corridors and watch squadrons of equally identical troopers, my mind takes me back to my only face-to-face meeting with their progenitor. Even now those words can still illicit an involuntary shudder.

_'Your clones are very impressive, you must be very proud.'_

_'They'll do their job well, I'll guarantee that.'_

_'Thank you for your time, Jango.'_

_'Always a pleasure to meet a Jedi.'_

And then he tried to kill me.

Now there were two of him guarding my access to the tractor beam power room. One of the first things any Jedi Clone Commander learns about troopers, however, is that they're easily distracted.

'_Ah, this aught to be easy!'_ I think to myself. Without even realizing it, quoting myself from a time long ago, when I had said those words to Anakin. Those were…good times.

It _was_ easy. The power was down, and I was out of there with a slight flick of the force. I've always said that the clones should be more…intuitive. Lucky for me that observation was ignored.

With the power down, I was free to return to the others, but…

My time is coming. I can feel it; now, almost like some fierce animal breathing steaming breath down my neck, gaining on me.

I stand now at the crossing of two hallways, but they may as well be life or death. One road leads back the way I came, towards the ship, it's arrogant Captain, and loyal first mate, and to Anakin's son. To safety.

The other…leads away from all that. Down more identical corridors with more faceless Jangoes, on a parallel path with freedom, lies my death. I see it as clearly as my own hands in front of me. All I have to do is walk away, but-

It is not the Will of the Force.

And I _always_ do the Will of the Force.

Don't I?


	6. Part Six

_AN: This is it. The end. Again, thank you all for your kind words and reviews - even the criticizms. They all helped with the creative process, and I would not have gotten this far if there were no readers reviewing! It's been a fun ride. Be sure to watch for my next fic (hopefully soon) from Palpatines' POV called '**InSidious'**_.

**Part Six:**

_'And he piled upon the whale's white hump, the sum of all the rage and hate felt by his whole race. If his chest had been a cannon, he would have shot his heart upon it.'_

_-Moby Dick_

I knew this day would come. Ever since I'd left him scarred and burned on Mustafar, I knew it.

When I couldn't bring myself to kill him, I knew:

One day, he would kill me.

'_This is the end for you, my 'master.''_

And now I hear him. _Suck-hisss_.

"I have been waiting for you, Obi-Wan, we meet again at last." A voice, too deep to be natural, too foreign to be his. _Anakin, what have they done to you?_ "The circle is now complete. When I left you I was but the learner, now I am the Master."

And I opened myself fully to the Force, feeling for the first time the full brunt of his dark presence. My former student, consumed by years of hate and anger. Even the new Sith's presence on Mustafar was nothing compared to the black cloud that now shrouded Darth Vader. I ignite my lightsaber.

"Only a Master of evil, _Darth_.'

'Then I will do what I must.'

'You'll try…'

Blue and red clash, sizzle, burn, and finally repel. I know in that first strike that this is a battle I cannot win. But there are alternatives to fighting…

He strikes, I parry.

He hates, I pity.

This is not Sith against Jedi, as it was twenty years ago on Mustafar. This is brother against brother. Hate against compassion. Greed against love; for Padme was right – even after all these years, she is still right.

'There is still good in him…I know…there is still…'

I feel it deep inside him even as he fights me. I feel him in there, somewhere. He fights with himself even as he fights with me. Somewhere, somehow, my student, the man I had loved, calls out a warning to me.

"You should not have come back," Anakin warns me.

' I'll give you a chance, Obi-Wan. For old times' sake. Walk away. Go someplace out of the way. Retire. Meditate. That's what you like, isn't it? You don't have to fight…'

I look into the black, expressionless transparisteel that serves as his eyes and for a flash, I see him. The real him. My student, my friend, pleading with me, desperate.

'Don't force me to kill you,' he says. I know it's just a memory, I know…

But I also know he's in there. Behind that mask, he is looking back at me, if only for that moment. I find myself wondering what he looks like under there. The man he has become; the man he would have become. Should have become.

How would things have been different if he had gone away with Padme instead of fighting me? How would the galaxy have changed if Luke and Leia were raised by their parents? If Anakin had turned to love and not to hate?

'You turned her against me!'

'You have done that yourself.'

'You will not take her from me!'

At the time, I hadn't understood the consuming possessiveness he felt towards his wife. Later when, as Yoda liked to say, the dust settled and the water became clear, it was so obvious that the realization of what we had done to him became a slow, excruciating death to my heart.

It was all our fault.

The Jedi.

All of us.

Our fault.

I know Yoda blames himself. He will not talk of it with me, putting himself in emotional exile as well as physical, but I felt it. We failed him. Together, we all did. And only now can we look back on our actions, see what we did wrong, and weep.

If only we had…embraced his feelings rather than suppress them. If we had allowed him contact with his mother instead of forbidding it. Blessed his marriage, not forced him to secrecy…

He, and all of us, would be alive today. Ultimately, the entire Republic depended on one boy's happiness.

For happiness was the only possession a Jedi was not required to renounce.

For in the end, happiness is all anyone really has.

And in the end, it was what we, in our wisdom, denied him.

Twirling, slashing, blocking, we gradually move into the hangar bay. I see the Falcon in the corner of my eye. Yes…yes, I feel, rather than think. Here is where it will end.

The Chosen One. That is what we called him. Pushed at him since he first became my Padewan. After a while, he could not help but believe it. We had known how important he was, how important it was to be 'chosen' –

But we didn't know what that meant.

Chosen to defeat the Sith? That was the belief, but now I see we had it terribly wrong.

'You are a much wiser Jedi than I could ever hope to be.'

He was the Chosen One. The New Beginning that would bring balance to the Force. Only, we didn't realize –

It was we who had caused the imbalance.

And it was he who could fix it. He's always been good at fixing things, but we would not let him. He tried, but we suppressed. We trained him in our image, when really, it was he who should have been training us in his.

Instead, we forced him into the mould of the perfect Jedi, and in the end, he had no choice but to rebel. He had taught me as much as I was willing to learn, but even that much was hard won. The prophecy will now be fulfilled by another – one we cannot corrupt, for that is what we had done. The one who will rebuild what, through our pride, we allowed to be destroyed.

And now, the last vestiges of that forgotten time fight it out in a battle of who-said-what, and you-should-have-done-this.

And inevitably, I loose.

Continued?


End file.
